Late Night Trains
by deepseptember
Summary: The lion might not always eat the lamb. Sometimes the idiot lamb might be so idiotic that the idiot lion fell in love with the idiot lamb. They'll die idiots anyways. SephirothOC


**A/N:** Yo. So being the procrastination-perfectionist I am, I have decided to not concentrate on getting the next chapter up, but re-writing chapter one. I felt like I could really re-write chapter one to make it better, you know? Yeah, apologies. On the side note, I would sincerely love it if you could leave me a reply regarding Sephiroth's character.

_Anything._

About Sephiroth.

Thank you much~.

-A

**Disclaimer: **Owns everything except for anything Square Enix related, which does not include this book.

* * *

**Late Night Trains**

Chapter One

When Aulaire was but a little girl, her bold and down-right accusing attitude constantly landed her in trouble. Her mother would chase after her, no matter how many escapees Aulaire went through, and she loved her mother for that.

The grey Nibelheim had been Aulaire's home town for longer than she could remember. But her mother spoke of times when the grass was tall and green. Of times when the stars in the sky were so many and pretty, it almost hurt to look at, in a different heaven called 'Wutai'.

The child she had been didn't believe her mother.

Aulaire Doihara lived in Nibelheim, with her parents, behind a white picket fence and with a greedy neighbourhood cat, right up till the year she graduated. The year she turned twenty-two, she left for Wutai with a degree in hand.

That was the year Sephiroth turned twenty-four- the year Nibelheim **burned**.

Aulaire had not been an idiot when she first saw the great General Sephiroth appear. She did not miss the distant, insane glow of his dark eyes. She stood still for a minute, heard the whispering echos of sparrows. Felt the wind against her bare arms, and listened her goose-bumps rising.

In front of him, Aulaire stood.

The afternoon sun dimmed for a split second, as Aulaire stopped breathing.

Sephiroth walked right past her, without a second glance.

_The killer intention._

He had left a killer intention.

A killer intention out to kill.

Perhaps Aulaire could have done something. Saved something. Told something.

But Aulaire was a selfish human. So she turned and ran.

She ran.

And ran.

And ran without stopping, to a direction she knew was illogical. Aulaire didn't know where she was headed. But she heard the heaven her mother spoke so fondly of.

_'Another heaven called... Wutai?'_

Another heaven called Wutai.

She remembered leaning against the metal railing of the train station. She remembered the silence as one house, one burning black house, fell one after the other.

Aulaire watched with an apathetic stare, her mind elsewhere.

She did not blink. She barely moved as her phone rang and she barely listened to her mother's broken voice on the phone, asking if she was okay.

Aulaire glanced up in time to see the last train to Wutai screech to a stop.

_"I am fine."_

Her mother knew, Aulaire knew, and the birds screeching around the trees nearby knew.

She was running, like the coward she was.

Of cause she never forgot that day.

* * *

Psychology taught Aulaire many important things about attitudes. It taught Aulaire to remain a withdrawn person in first meetings, it taught her to evaluate things quietly, with a well-spoken manner. The climb to the top of the Psychology circle had been long.

But the climb was quite pleasant, as it left Aulaire with time. Time she spent staring at the trains coming and going, at midnight.

Midnight in Wutai was different from midnight in Nibelheim. In Wutai, midnights held a sense of dark secrecy Nibelheim never had. Midnight in Wutai left Aulaire feeling bold, with the silent darkness that wrapped everything away. The stars did glitter prettily, like her mother claimed. The grass was green, the skies were blue, the trees were tall, and it had Aulaire wonder why her mother ever left Wutai.

So Aulaire did not expect anyone near the train station. She did not expect someone to be sitting on her favourite bench, overlooking plains of green grass and full skies of stars.

But they held a graceful air of authority, which a homeless man could only wish to have. So Aulaire thought it was a great idea to approach them, late at night.

_Such intelligence._

She walked up to the bench, and if the figure noticed her there, they sure didn't show it. The young woman sighed, as she turned to study the moon, which happened to be a full moon.

A luminescent white orb of someone else's light.

"May I sit here?"

The figure did not more. Aulaire thought that as a yes, and she attempted to discreetly study the person. The brunette noted his—yes she decided this must be man, especially with a figure like _that_; she noted his stiff composure and regarded as unfamiliarity with socializing. Moments passed before the man moved. He might as well have been a statue.

_Unmoving, unfeeling, stone cold._

"You are staring,"

Aulaire blinked in alarm at the sudden voice talking. The stranger's voice sounded different from the locals. It was a tad darker, a little more masculine, and with a slight sarcastic undertone.

"You have a nice voice," she blurted out the first thought that crossed her mind.

The stars dimmed with shame.

Seconds later, her brain made a connection with what she just said, and Aulaire shrank a little lower in her seat, feeling the stranger's disdainful, incredulous glance at her.

A minute went past with any communication between them.

It took a while, before Aulaire felt bold enough to provoke a reaction from a potential rapist, homeless-murderer, random-insomniac-guy-walking-around-with-leather-a rmour-and-hood.

"You're injured," She eyed the dark clothing with even darker stains.

The stranger stiffened.

Ha! Reaction! Aulaire mentally did happy dance. She actually wanted to make the happy dance happen psychically, but the logical part of her brain screamed at her to keep her guard up.

Especially since the stranger looked like a serial killer.

The stranger pondered for second, if the strange idiot was worth his time. If this idiotic woman was worth his time to kill her soundlessly.

But he feared ShinRa would be watching him for any movements. Especially when he knew how deep his invisible wounds were.

_Damn her._

A frown appeared.

"Who do you… _work for?_" Darkness seeped into his baritone voice.

She blinked at his weird question, not many people act around people like he was doing. But Aulaire had never hated silence so much before.

She had welcomed silence. Silence was helpful; the amount of silence, the 'kind' of silence told her so many interesting things about her clients.

_She had never hated silence before._

**"_Well?_"** The man hissed, as Aulaire paled.

"I work for no one but myself."

"Oh? And who would **you** be?" If he had spoken in a different tone, Aulaire could've sworn he was playing around with her, but nope, nuh uh.

The threat was undeniable.

_He could kill her. _

**_And no one would ever suspect him._**

The corners of Aulaire's lips curled up, when another bold remark crossed her mind.

_Dangerous, idiot, dangerous._

"I am a psychologist, sir, and I suggest you get someone to look after those wounds of yours. They look a little bit too serious to be a mere scuffle between friends," Aulaire paused. She really wanted to _go there._ But to 'get there', she needed to ramble a bit, make him unsettled and have the stranger spill some beans.

This was actually, meant to be Plan B. If simply talking and being 'generally friendly', did not work.

But to go 'there', when she knew that armour was for no ordinary bodyguard or mercenary. In fact, Aulaire could see tomorrow's news: ONE OF WORLD'S BEST PSYCHOLOGIST KILLED. She could almost _see_ her adoring parents crying on the television, blabbing about how cute she was when she was six.

But Aulaire could a be a really bold human.

"_Or…_ could it be you are part of SOLDIER? I mean, with weapons like… those, surely you cannot be a simple mercenary or ninja. Your dark clothing also seems like reminiscent of the last generation of SOLDIER."

Another pause.

Aulaire closed her eyes, sending a prayer to whom ever might be listening, "So it's all very possible you could be Seph-"

The light of the moon glinted on a dulled silver.

The stranger's cloak fluttered to the ground from the speed of his movement.

Aulaire's eyes widened.

Her mouth opened a little.

_Sephiroth…?_

Aulaire had not even noticed he moved. But her mind drew a blank as she gawked like a mindless fool Wutai's night turned her into. _  
_

He had silver hair.

_Silver hair._

Aulaire had only been throwing out completely irrational guesses. She hadn't even the slightest _idea_ why she started to accuse this stranger of being in SOLDIER, and **Sephiroth** nonetheless. But with _the General_ who went whoopsie in the head to be **glaring** at her with such _hatred_—and not even the neighbour sociopathic kid could challenge the hatred in this man's eyes, Aulaire felt scared.

_She was scared shitless._

Because she knew **going there** was going to be the death of her someday.

* * *

Upon seeing her lips make the two syllables of his name, Sephiroth stood up so fast a wave of nausea passed over his eyes.

But that was the last of his worries.

_The girl had to die._

He barely heard the tell-tale 'drip' 'drip' of another wound re-opened before he stumbled. But of cause, the great and almighty _Sephiroth_ never 'stumble'; especially not from exhaustion and blood loss.

But he felt so tired. Though he would never admit it **at all,** Sephiroth wanted nothing more than sleep.

Plus, he needed sleep. Even though he had so many Jenova cells within him that Sephiroth could almost be considered 'non-human', sleep could not be disregarded altogether. He cursed his ill fortune to meet this stupid _human_, which caused him to reveal his identity.

_All her fault. _

So Sephiroth slumped forwards into the startled, fearful and completely, utterly lost arms on front of him.

"**E- Ehhh? **Sir? I mean, Seph- oh wait I can't call you that can I? Oh shit, oh crap, he's gonna kill me, oh my god the _blood,_ how the heck, why are you- … Sir, are you _**asleep?**__" _Disbelief filled Aulaire's voice as she stumbled backwards from the weight of the general. She sat down on the ground hard, and her back felt like it was _breaking_. Instinct bit at her to ditch the man and run, but logic screamed at her, '_If you leave him here, he's probably gonna die! Do you wanna add a murderer to your name? And if he doesn't, __**Sephiroth**__ will find you and kill you! Pick him up and save him! Then he'll owe you his life! Do you value your life or what?"_

It was times like these when Aulaire wondered if psychologists should listen to the voices inside her head, or if she should be even _hearing _them in the first place.

* * *

End/.


End file.
